Snatched Away
by Han-22x
Summary: DRARRY - Very depressing. Harry makes the ultimate sacrifice, for the person who meant the most to him.


He was going to die.

Neither can live while the other survives.

Neither would live, neither would survive.

He only wished that he could have said goodbye to him.

The words of the prophecy echoed in his mind as he faced the Dark Lord for the final time, in the dark forest, surrounded by the inky night. This time there were to be no heroics, no bursts of luck, no one to save him again. There was to be no one to sacrifice themselves for him – he would never let anyone do that again.

His whole body was shaking, and the forest surrounding him seemed to sway from side to side. He could not move, fear had left him paralysed, frozen to the spot. As he looked into the deep red eyes of the Dark Lord, who himself was betraying a questioning look, he could not stop himself from trembling, and it took all his self control to stop himself from yelling at him to kill him already. Images of his friends flashed through his mind. They had all fought so bravely in battle, and here he was – giving himself up like a coward, trembling in fear.

And at that moment, as Harry Potter was preparing himself to die, he cast his mind back to the memories of when he was happiest, to distract himself from his terrifying position. The memories he would give anything to relive, anything to be there again.

The memories of _him._ The memories of the moments he had shared with him, the best moments of his life. The moments when he could forget he was "The Chosen One", and could be normal for once, just a boy who was in love. In love with his worst enemy, his sworn rival.

And then there was the memory that had ruined everything, the one he wanted to forget.

"_NO! Leave the boy to me!"_

_The high pitched scream echoed off the castle's stone walls, drowning out the noise of battle. The fighting stopped instantly, and everyone – both the Dark and the Light side froze in fear. There was a murderous rage in that voice that chilled all their hearts._

_The Death Eater Harry had been fighting stopped shooting curses in every direction, shooting spurts of red, green and red light, and with a smirk disapparated, leaving his master to finish off the "Chosen One". There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Harry Potter was "the boy" Voldemort wanted to finish off._

_Harry looked up into the eyes of Lord Voldemort, his face set in a cruel sneer, his wand pointing straight at Harry. Before Harry could do anything, before he could react, before he could say a spell, any spell at all, the Dark Lord's mouth moved, and a flash of green light lit up the dark hall. _

_At the same time, Harry felt himself be pushed out of the way roughly, and he fell onto the stone cold floor, his head hitting the floor with a crack. He had been pushed out of the way, just in time, by some unknown, but quick thinking rescuer. Pain coursed through his head. He looked up, his vision slightly blurred, blood trickling down his face from the wound, and saw immediately with horror that the rescuer, whoever they were, was lying underneath a pile of rubble – and they weren't moving._

_Voldemort had gone, believing his deed to have been done, he had disappeared, closely followed by his faithful Death Eaters – they had vanished in a cloud of dramatic black smoke, leaving behind a dreadful scene of bloodshed. The dead and the dying lay on the floor, surrounded by wreckage and flames._

_Harry shakily got to his feet, and walked unsteadily towards the body beneath the debris. Whoever they were, they had died to save him, and he was filled with an indescribable feeling of gratitude and an overwhelming sense of regret. He had killed someone. _

_He bent over the heap of rubble, and carefully began to move away the wreckage._

_His heart stopped._

_Barely visible, underneath the rubble, was a flash of whitest blonde._

_In a wild frenzy, Harry began to tug away at the bricks and rocks which covered the body, pushing them all away, until his arms were covered in deep scratches and his hands were bleeding freely. Finally, the body was revealed to him._

_Harry had stopped breathing._

_It was a boy, around his age, dressed all in black with the palest skin and the whitest hair. His sombre grey eyes were open, but unseeing, staring blankly at the sky._

_Throughout the whole war, the war that had been fought for so many years, Harry Potter had not shown any sign of weakness. He had been a symbol of strength, a beacon of hope for the nation. He hadn't cried for many years, not even as each of his friends gradually left him for ever on this world, or when Hogwarts, his only home, had come crashing down, set alight by Fiendfyre. He hadn't shown any negativity as each of the battles they fought was lost, and as the number of dead and wounded grew day by day._

_But on that day, surrounded by the dead, the dying, black smoke and wreckage, Harry Potter cried for Draco Malfoy, the person who had meant so much to him. He wept over the still body, holding the boy's cold hands in his, hoping for a glimmer of life which would never come._

Harry shook his head, in an attempt to rid himself of the memories, and looked up into the face of the Dark Lord with a new determined strength.

He would sacrifice himself for good, to rid Voldemort of his immortality.

He would sacrifice himself like Draco Malfoy did, on that fateful day of bloodshed.

He would fall into the welcoming arms of death, where he will see Draco once again.

The Dark Lord said the dreaded words, _Avada Kedavra, _and the green light took away Harry's last breath. As he fell backwards, hoping to catch a last glimpse of the stars, only one name was on his lips.

"_Draco…"_


End file.
